


The Music of Everything

by yellowcurtqins



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Cuddling, Depression, First Kiss, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, It gets better I promise, M/M, Mentions of Therapy, Post 3x13, REALLY ANGSTY fix-it, asking for help, bloom by the paper kites, depressed tj, depressive episodes, he just needs a hug, hella angst, i thought about skam og s3 while writing this, ive given up on you MISOGI remix, self-inflicted injuries?, sorry - Freeform, tj's family cares a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 11:37:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19108873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowcurtqins/pseuds/yellowcurtqins
Summary: in which TJ learns he can ask for help.





	The Music of Everything

**Author's Note:**

> HI guys i know this one's angsty but bear with me bc it will get better // lingojam fonts wasn't working so i had to make due

ɪᴛ’s 4ᴀᴍ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ  
ғʀᴏᴍ ᴄʟᴏsɪɴɢ ᴍʏ sʟᴇᴇᴘʏ ᴇʏᴇs  
ᴅᴏᴇs ᴛʜᴇ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴏғ ᴍᴇ  
ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʏᴏᴜ ᴜᴘ ᴀᴛ ɴɪɢʜᴛ?

‘Yeah, it does. It absolutely does,’ TJ thought in response to the lyrics that flowed into his headphones. Ironically, it was four a.m., and the blonde couldn’t stop thinking, couldn’t stop wondering. He wondered why he couldn’t just stop screwing everything up, why he had to ruin every good thing that showed up in his life. He wondered why he couldn’t just be straight, or at least accept that he wasn’t. Of course, it wasn’t that simple. It was never that simple. 

He finally realized that he liked Cyrus, he finally made a move. He was so damn proud of himself for finally doing something without completely screwing up. But of course, something had to rip it away from him. And this time, he knew there was no way out. Cyrus was done. 

The water dripped from TJ’s chin before he realized he was crying. He was too tired of everything to wipe away the tears, too tired of everything to try to stop them from coming. Instead, he turned up the sound in his headphones, he laid on his back, he stared at the dark paint of the ceiling, and he cried. His knuckles were white with how harshly he was squeezing his fists. He didn’t stop tightening his hands, didn’t cease when he nails broke the skin of his palms.

 

\--I deserve this.

I deserve this. 

I deserve this. 

How could I not?--

 

TJ’s face was drenched with the water that fell from his green eyes, his nails digging deeper into his hand as he gritted his teeth in pain. It was there, it was all there, but at the same time, his consciousness seemed to be floating into a dreamy pool of nothing. He couldn’t move, speak, cry. It hurt, it stung, it burned, but he was numb. At one point, he just stopped crying. He stopped feeling. Everything was just a quiet buzz. 

 

\-----

 

“Tyler, sweetie?” His mom knocked gently on the door that morning, getting nothing in return. She opened the door slowly, hearing a buzz of music from her son’s headphones. She walked in slowly, carefully, as if not to scare the boy on the bed. She gasped, approaching the bed and sitting down.

“Tyler?” He was breathing, thank god. But he just stared at the ceiling, no response to his mother. Tears shone on his cheeks, and she cupped her son’s face, checking for any signs of violence or of pain. She saw only pain behind his eyes. She reached over to pause the music on his phone, and then to remove his headphones. 

“Mom,” he whispered, and she smiled painfully at him, trying to conceal her fear for him. 

“Baby...honey, what happened?” he tried to smile at her, to pretend it was fine, but he couldn’t. His eyes watered once again, and he closed his eyes to hide. 

“Mom, it hurts,” he said, almost inaudibly. He hissed when his mom moved to grab his hand, and she saw the blood on his palms. Her breath hitched as examined the cuts from his nails, and she kissed his forehead gently. 

“Oh, baby. I’m going to call the school, okay? You’re staying home.” he opened his mouth as if to argue, but closed it once again. His head moved the slightest bit in a nod, and his mom left to call the school.

All he could do was lie there. 

 

\-----

 

Kira’s eyebrows furrowed as she checked her phone, confused by the lack of response from TJ. She had been sending message after message, and had gotten no reply from the basketball player. Had the blackmail failed? It couldn’t have. It never did. Especially not that kind. 

It had been hours. Usually, he responded in minutes. She sent a few more texts, still with no response. ‘Huh,’ she thought, ‘weird’. 

 

\-----

 

It was one p.m., and TJ had only moved once, to put his headphones on. The same song played over and over, looping through his head like a merry-go-round. He had been staring at the same spot on the ceiling for hours, his phone on do-not-disturb. 

He felt hopeless. He thought about everything and nothing, about Cyrus and about Kira and about how much he screwed up and how he would never be able to fix it. He would never get Cyrus back, but Cyrus was all he wanted. 

He hadn’t gotten up, hadn’t changed, hadn’t eaten anything. He couldn’t. He couldn’t do anything. Cyrus was never coming back. It sucked, because without Cyrus, he was alone. He had nobody. 

\--Well, he guessed it made sense. He had nobody in the first place.-- 

 

\-----

 

Kira looked across the cafeteria at a brunette boy. Another hour, and still no response from the jock. She began to walk over to the boy, his friends glaring her down as she neared the table.

“Hi,” she said innocently. Cyrus just looked down at the table, his best friends staring daggers at her as she stood behind him. “Cyrus, where’s your friend Kippen?”

“Why would he know that?” Buffy snarled, her voice venomous. Kira smiled at her, the look smug and condescending. “Why would he care?”

“I was under the impression that they were best friends. Or, maybe boyfriends?” Cyrus’ gaze shot up, his eyes wide.

“What?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just thought that you would know where your boyfriend was. Although, given he didn’t call about the costume, I’m not surprised you don’t know.” Her eyes were triumphant. 

“Since when has he been my boyfriend? Also, what do you mean, ‘where is he’?”

“You’re not dating? Oops, my bad!” she smirked. “That explains why he didn’t want anyone to know he likes you! Although, I don’t think he would want that if he was dating you. No one would want to admit they like you .”

Buffy’s eyes widened to match Cyrus’, and her face reddened in anger. 

“You did something,” she said.

“Why would you accuse me of anything? All I wanted to know was where Kippen is. He hasn’t been answering my texts and I haven’t seen him.” 

“You did something,” she repeated, her eyes becoming icy. 

“All I did was help him realize what he needed to realize.”

“What did you say to him?” Cyrus asked, his voice surprisingly harsh for a boy like him.

“I just made sure he knew how couple-y you guys would look if you did the costume. And, as expected, he caved.”

“How fucking dare you.” As Cyrus spoke, his words became angrier, more resentful towards Kira. He stood up, one task in his mind more important than anything.  
He had to find TJ. 

 

\-----

 

TJ could barely open his eyes. All he had done was sleep, think, regret, on an endless cycle of pain and hurt and hopelessness. For hours, he just laid on his bed, no ability to get up. His mom had bandaged his palms, but they burned still. 

He wanted to go to the swings, the go back and forth and to sing Cyrus’ song and to gain some tiny shred of peace and hold onto it. He wanted to find Cyrus, to figure something out so they could be okay. So he could be okay.

But, this time, there was no Cyrus, there were no swings, there was no chance for his friendship with Cyrus. His something with Cyrus. There was no chance for him. It hurt.

 

\-----

 

School ended.

Cyrus began at the school’s gym, looking for the boy he knew would want to play basketball. He searched at the park for the jock who found solace in swinging, who could be found singing a song as he soared through the air.

He looked at the Spoon for the boy who loved milkshakes, at the Red Rooster for the blonde boy who he knew would search through the records whenever he got the chance. Still, he found nothing of the boy, or of his emerald eyes. 

He had texted the boy, to which he got no response. He grew frantic as he looked at the Jackson Street Gym, drawing him to no conclusion. He paced outside for a moment, biting his nails to their bitter ends as he wondered where the boy could be. 

His hands combed through his hair, and his panic was interrupted by the pinging of his phone. He opened his phone faster than he ever had. It was TJ. Well, it was TJ’s mom, but it counted. He grew worried as he read the words. 

ʜᴇᴀʀᴛʙʀᴇᴀᴋᴇʀ: Hi, Cyrus. It’s Mrs. Kippen. My son needs you. He’s said 5 words today, and two of them were just, “Cyrus”. My husband and I are worried. Would you mind coming over and visiting him? (address)

ᴄʏ: I’ll be right over

 

\-----

 

Cyrus had never run faster in his life, had never rushed more frantically to someone’s house. He hurried up the front steps of the Kippens’ house, knocking on the door. He didn’t know what the situation was, so he wanted to be quiet if he needed to. 

Mr. Kippen opened the door. He smiled at Cyrus, it didn’t meet his eyes. 

“You must be Cyrus,” he greeted, his tone gentle as if it had been conditioned like this over the course of the day.

“I am. Hi, Mr. Kippen.” They shook hands, and Mr. Kippen’s eyes grew sad, the worry he had for his son apparent in the irises.

“He’s upstairs. He needs you.” Cyrus nodded, and took of his shoes. He placed them by the door before climbing the stairs to find the blonde boy. When he got to the boy’s bedroom door, the boy’s mom stepped out of the room, speaking to him quietly.

“He’s fragile right now. He hasn’t talked about what’s going on with anyone. We’re running out of ideas. Are you okay with going in?” 

“Yeah, absolutely. I’ll do what I can for him.” With that, she opened the door a bit for him, promising him privacy, and he walked quietly into the boy’s room. 

 

\-----

 

At first, he simply thought the boy was sleeping. As he got closer, he could see that TJ’s eyes glued towards the ceiling, his eyes glazed over as if he had cried for hours and wasn’t done yet. Cyrus approached the bed, sitting down next to the boy. 

“Hi, Not-So-Scary-Basketball-Guy,” he whispered, his voice soft. The jock moved his head the slightest bit, looking at Cyrus. His eyes widened a bit, unable to do much more than that. His words came out broken.

“Cy...rus?” he slurred, more tired than the brunette had ever seen him. He looked so defeated. The picture was heartbreaking, and Cyrus reminded himself to breathe as he looked down at the basketball player.

He grabbed the boy’s hand, dropping it when TJ whimpered in pain. Cyrus brought the blonde’s hand up, staring at his bandaged palm in worry. He turned to look into the older boy’s eyes, his eyes softening as the TJ tried to smile for him. 

“I’m here, Teej. I’m here. And I forgive you. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I...didn’t?” Cyrus cupped the boy’s face in his hands, smiling in relief at the responses he was getting from his friend. 

“No, of course not. I talked to Kira. I get it, alright? You were scared. But I won’t believe what she said unless you tell me. All I know for sure is that she manipulated you.”

“Do we...have...to talk about this...now?”

“No, I won’t rush you. You can tell me when you’re ready. What do you need, Basketball Guy?” 

“You...here. Lay with me?” Cyrus’ face grew red at the request, and he scolded himself for being affected in this way, even when the situation was one like this. He lowered himself next to TJ, resting his head on a higher pillow. His heart stuttered when he felt the boy slowly move to place his head on Cyrus’ chest, and the brunette hoped his crush couldn’t feel how fast it was beating. 

TJ’s hand gradually came to rest by his head, and Cyrus’ hand fell to the boy’s hair, combing through the strands. After a while, TJ drifted off to sleep, guided by the smaller boy’s gentle words. TJ shared his headphones with Cyrus, who, after listening to the words of the repeating song, had decided to change it to something more calming. He found his account on soundcloud, turning on his anxiety playlist.

The words of ‘ʙʟᴏᴏᴍ’ by The Paper Kites fell softly through the headphones, and Cyrus just stared at the boy, examining all of his beautiful features. His jaw had relaxed from its tense position, his face no longer showing any signs of pain. He looked so peaceful, so oblivious to everything. It hurt Cyrus that he couldn’t always be that content. 

The boy woke up above an hour later, as Cyrus listened to ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ ʏᴏᴜ sʟᴇᴇᴘ by girl in red. ‘Huh,’ the brunette thought. ‘Ironic’. When TJ’s eyes found his, he flushed. The boy’s cheeks shaded pink, his eyes shining green. Cyrus had forgotten how green they became when he was tired. Streaks of dried tears trailed down the jock’s face, and Cyrus had never seen something so gorgeously heartbreaking, so breathtakingly vulnerable. 

TJ buried his face in the boy’s chest, listened to the heartbeat that the brunette worked so hard to keep steady. His eyes widened when he felt a kiss press lightly to the fabric of his shirt between TJ and his chest. 

He smiled widely, reaching to place his hand to the side of the taller boy’s face to gently wipe a leftover tear from his cheekbone. He smiled as the boy leaned into his touch, falling almost limp in his arms. He was so tired. The brunette watched as his friend worked hard to move his limbs, to stretch them at least a little bit. TJ turned away from the boy, pulling Cyrus’ arms around himself. 

“I can...explain, if you want me to,” he murmured.

“Whenever you’re ready, Teej. Take your time.” Cyrus’ breath fell against the back of the boy’s neck as he nuzzled against it, attempting to comfort the blonde silently. He felt TJ intertwine their fingers and place their hands against his belly, and he cursed himself for becoming flustered. He wasn’t sure if TJ was just a cuddly person, so he leaned into the moment. 

The room was silent for a few minutes, with the exception of their breaths. Cyrus let the boy have whatever time he needed, not wanting to push him. He stroked his thumb over TJ’s calloused hand, brushing his fingers across the knuckles. He was careful not to touch the boy’s injured palm. 

“I…” TJ paused, holding his breath. The brunette pressed a soft kiss to the back of the other boy’s neck, causing him to inhale steadily. He moved once again, this time so that the boys were lying next to each other, their fingers still tangled together. 

“Kira was gonna tell everybody… Kira was gonna tell everybody that… I’m gay. And… I like you. A lot.” The jock covered his face as if to protect himself, and it broke Cyrus’ heart that he was so scared. “I’m sorry,” TJ whispered into his hands. 

The brown-eyed boy gently pulled TJ’s hands from his face, replacing them with his own. He traced the freckles that were sprinkled on the boy’s cheekbones, leaning toward him slowly. He paused a few millimeters from TJ’s face, searching for any sign of resistance. 

Instead, he saw the basketball player’s eyes fall to his lips, his head leaning up slightly to catch Cyrus’ kiss. TJ exhaled, and the brunette felt his breath. He counted to three in his head, and he leaned down to close the gap.

The kiss was gentle, was comforting, was soft. Cyrus felt the other boy’s lips curve ever so slightly, but the small smile was everything. For a moment, they simply waded in the perfection of the kiss. Finally, their lips parted, and Cyrus pecked the jock’s lips softly before pulling away. 

Cyrus simply leaned over the boy, smiling at him for a beautiful eternity. The jock’s eyes were tired, but the sadness that clouded over them before seemed to be almost absent now. He smiled back, his grin only a bit less wide than Cyrus’. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, love.” The green-eyed boy looked unconvinced.

“I hurt you.” 

Cyrus cupped the boy’s face lovingly. “You were scared,” he replied.

“I’m always scared. I can never keep other people happy. I can never keep myself happy. My problems are so small, so why can’t I just deal with them?”

“Your problems are just as important as everyone else’s. Do you wanna see someone?”

“So many people are helping me,” he argued. “Why can’t I just get by without being pathetic?”

“TJ, you’re struggling. You don’t always have to be at your best. It’s okay to struggle, and it’s okay to ask for help.” Cyrus kissed the boy’s temple. “Do you think you should see a therapist?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe is good enough progress for now, baby.”

 

\-----

 

They called it “Persistent Depressive Disorder”. TJ had been struggling with it since he was twelve, but he hadn’t hit a low until costume day. They put him on anti-depressants, and he had been in recovery for three months.

He had been with Cyrus for three months. It amazed him that his life felt so much better, shocked him how much he had missed emotionally over the past few years. He hadn’t even realized how much better life and love could be without a cloud over his mind. 

He felt so lucky to have someone so understanding, someone so compassionate. He felt lucky to have someone that would stand up for him to no end, even to someone as intimidating as Kira. 

Of course, he had his bad days. But, he was learning that it was okay to have bad days, that it was okay to lean on people for support. He had Cyrus. He was finally learning that life was now, that there was good in the bad.

It was summer, and for once, TJ could fully appreciate all the pinks and the oranges of the sunsets, the blues and purples of the night sky, the brown of his boyfriend’s eyes, the look of awe that Cyrus had when he caught a firefly. 

He danced to the songs that the brunette played into the headphones they shared, he sang along as they spun around his room with the music blasting from his speakers, he hummed to the boy in the silence as they watched the stars from the hill. 

He could finally hear the music of everything around him. And he was addicted to the sound.

**Author's Note:**

> hello yes 9-1-1 i would like to report a bad writer who doesn't know what she's doing. yes i'm turning myself in


End file.
